


i don't know nothing 'bout love

by annhamilton



Category: Captain America (Movies), MCU
Genre: Fake Dating, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mutual Pining, Post-Endgame, apparently i see flirting as talking about deep stuff, deep talks, in order to be loved we must submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known, kind of, sympathetic to Steve Rogers, they are his friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:14:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25343776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annhamilton/pseuds/annhamilton
Summary: Sam, at the present moment, is very single. He hasn’t been trying to get a date but still. “I haven’t eaten today.”Bucky’s head snapped to the side, his eyes locking with Sam’s. “I don’t want your pity.”“It’s not pity,” Sam slid his phone into his pocket, not on silent, it never is these days. “Show me your plans and I can offer some constructive criticism for when you do eventually get a date.”Sam volunteers to go on a totally not date, a bit ironically, of course. And everyone knows doing something ironically is the gateway to doing something unironically
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Sam Wilson
Comments: 15
Kudos: 119





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nooneofconsequence1903](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nooneofconsequence1903/gifts).



> yes that's a shrek lyric. i feel no shame 
> 
> alight, this one goes out to my sister. enjoy

“Why is it so hard to ask a woman out?” Bucky slumped on the couch, putting his head in his hands. 

Sam rolled his eyes.  _ “Hello, Sam. Can I come in, Sam? Go right ahead, man, make yourself at home.”  _

Bucky had the decency to look a little remorseful. “Sorry.”

Sam rolled his eyes, Super Soldiers, and showing up at his place with their problems. Bucky was welcome but  _ manners. _ At least a text. 

“Tough night?” Sam looked back at his phone, Bucky had recently been trying to get back in the ‘game” even though he hardly remembered his own dating days. So far, to Sam’s amusement and a bit of pity, he hasn’t been very successful.

“I did research,” Bucky said, voice muffled by his hands. “There are books on this kind of thing.” 

“Oh God,” Sam set his phone down. “Don’t ever take advice from pick-up-artists. It’s really not that hard, if you want a one-night stand, here’s the big secret, just ask. Not off the bat but don’t wait too long. All you have to do it get her attention, in a respectful way, chat for a bit, make sure all your attention is on her, be charming for a bit, crack some jokes, show her you’re not going to kill her and then ask her.” 

“That’s it.” 

“People like honesty, it’s hit or miss but be respectful, treat women like actual human beings and not meat and you’ll be surprised how fast you can hook up with someone.” 

Bucky ran his hands over his newly cut hair. “I don’t want a one-night stand or whatever. I want a relationship.” 

“Why?” Sam asked, he wasn’t trying to be combative but he still wanted to know why.

_ “Why,”  _ Bucky played with the hair on the back of his neck. “I think I’m in a better place than ever and want, I just want..this girl is really nice and I like being around her.” 

“What’s her name?” Sam asked, he turned back to his phone as it vibrated. “Is it Sharon?”

“No, but she is a SHIELD agent, her name is Katherine, she’s really nice and can kick ass.” 

Sam nodded again. “That complicates things slightly.”

“I know. I don’t want to make her uncomfortable or do some social sin I don’t know about.” 

“I’m not gonna tell you what to say but just bring it up casually and then if she says no, she says no.” 

Bucky sighed and leaned back. “But then it would be weird.” 

“Probably but then you deal with it,” Sam frowned as Bucky glared at his phone. Bucky loved his damn phone, fascinated by all things high-tech. 

“I have to tell Marie I’m not coming,” Bucky said, sounding genuinely miserable about the fact. 

“Who’s Marie?” Sam asked and his question made Bucky stop glaring at his phone. 

“She’s the owner of this restaurant in Brooklyn _ , Navarre’s.  _ I told her I’d be coming in today but I never worked up the nerve to ask Kat out.” 

Sam, at the present moment, is very single. He hasn’t been trying to get a date but still. “I haven’t eaten today.” 

Bucky’s head snapped to the side, his eyes locking with Sam’s. “I don’t want your pity.” 

“It’s not pity,” Sam slid his phone into his pocket, not on silent, it never is these days. “Show me your plans and I can offer some constructive criticism for when you do eventually get a date.”

Bucky slowly set his phone down, a text message still on his too-bright screen. “You ain’t got plans.” 

“Nothing that can’t be put off,” Sam stood up, already making his mind, he could use some good food even though Bucky’s taste was questionable. Hit or miss. 

“Okay,” Bucky patted his legs and stood up. “Let’s go.” 

Sam googled  _ Navarre’s  _ and nothing official came up. “What’d you say this—” Sam looked up and Bucky was already leaving. Sam sighed and caught up to him. “Where is this place?” 

“A short walk from here,” Bucky was about to take another step but Sam grabbed his forearm. 

“Not so fast,” Sam kept his light but firm grip on Bucky’s arm. “You’re a super soldier, how long is a short walk for you.” 

“Fifteen minutes, can you handle that, Captain? 

Bucky knows being called Captain makes Sam all happy, when most people gave him shit for it, always bringing up that he’ll never really be Captain America, Bucky just rolls with it. Such a little kind thing can make his day. 

“Can you old man?” Sam took quick steps to outpace him as they went down the steps of his apartment. 

“Either I’m a feeble old man or a Super Soldier,” Bucky caught up to him easily. “Make up your mind.”

Sam laughed and let Bucky take the lead. He knew where they were going after all. 

“So,” Sam said, as they walked down the street, it was a bit warm outside but the sun was setting soon. “What’s the plan.” 

“Dinner.” 

“Cryptic bastard,” Sam mussed but he wasn’t actually annoyed, it was more fun than annoying to mess with Bucy a little, and be messed with in return. 

“Just be patient for once,” Bucky said. “And enjoy the ride.” 

There was a joke in there but Sam didn’t make it. He shoved his hands in his pockets, felt weird then took them out. Bucky ran a hand over his head, messing up his hair even further. Sam noticed he did it often, it’s not surprising, after having such little control over his body that he’d cut his hair when he could. Even normal people do it after a breakup or something. Just to feel in control of something. 

“Usually this is where we’d get to know basic things but I already know you.” 

Sam snorted. 

“What?” Bucky slowed his pace a little. 

Sam kept walking down the street. “It’s just funny. You think you know me?” 

“I do.” 

“What do you know?” 

Bucky caught up to him and in an echo of before grabbed Sam’s forearm stopping him. “I know you like to listen to old music because it reminds you of home. I know you like those crazy roller coaster-death-machines.” 

Sam as a kid would sometimes just watch, to see how people tick. “Knowing things about a person isn’t the same thing as knowing a person.”

Bucky let go of Sam’s arm and shrugged. “You gotta start somewhere.” 

They walked the next block in silence but when they do get to a place that looks like a house with a yellow door atop a wooden porch. “This someone’s house?” Sam asked, following Bucky. 

This house is a restaurant apparently, small and a little busy. Bucky seemed a bit lighter somehow, Sam, a study in people, didn’t know exactly why it seemed that way. It’s the way he stands, not a murder confident walk, or a slump of trying to not take up too much space, just at ease. 

The house-restaurant has tables in what must have been a large living room, the kitchen is bustling around the corner and stairs lead up to another dining room, or at least Sam assumes.

The hostess whispered something to the nearest waiter and then walked up to them. “Hello,” her voice had a slight accent to it, she took out menus. “Table for two?” 

Bucky nodded and they went to a sound table near the back with a blue tablecloth. 

“Where are we exactly?” Sam asked after the hostess left. 

“It’s an old restaurant, was here in the forties, I vaguely remember it but they serve the best mix of French and soul food. They’re off the radar, don’t have anything online, don’t advertise, it’s all word of mouth.” 

Well, that explained the calm. “Must have good food to remember it.”

“Wakandan meditation helps,” Bucky fiddled with the menu, peeling at the edge. “I keep waiting for it all to come back at once but,” he shrugged and looked down. “It never does. Takes time.” 

“The mind works in mysterious ways, before I decided to join the military I wanted to be a cognitive scientist.” 

“Why didn’t you become one?” Bucky went to tuck his hair behind his ear but found nothing, his hand froze midair, brain clearly working away before he dropped it. 

Sam was so caught up in watching Bucky he almost forgot to answer. “I wanted to help people.” It’s far more complicated than that but that was the bones of it. “Among other things.”

Bucky nodded. “I was drafted, but even then I wanted to help people, among other things.” 

Sam chuckled. The waiter came up and they ordered. A spiced-up burger with special house sauce and an egg for Sam and crawfish beignets for Bucky. 

“Do you ever think what would happen if you never joined the military?” Bucked asked, his expression thoughtful. “If you ran in the afternoon?” 

“Not really,” Sam prided himself on being a rock, someone for others to lean on. It was fulfilling and to do that he usually needed to remain unknowable, a strong empathetic figure, who has everything together, and he felt like he was stripping back his layers far too quickly. 

“I’d probably be dead,” Bucky said. He said far too casually, like saying you owe someone your life is casual. “Just think about it, if Steve hadn’t had you, I probably would have killed him and then one less avenger could have caused the world to end, maybe from Sakovia or Thanos.” 

“That’s a bold claim,” Sam said, trying to keep all his walls up. He worked with people with every intention of getting to the point where they don’t need him. He had an effect on people he knew that, he saved lives, they admitted it to him but another Falcon would have been found, another VA group therapy guide. 

Sam knew he was worth just as much as the people he helps but to think he was sone linchpin seemed like hubris. 

“I know you don’t believe me,” Bucky said after a beat. “But I do. Believe myself—what I’m saying.”

“Okay,” Sam said,  _ agree to disagree.  _ “I’ll say the same to you. If you never looked out for Steve then he never could have met me.” 

Bucky sighed. “Steve could have survived without me, he’s too stubborn.” 

Sam hummed, trying to keep it neutral. He didn’t want to talk about Steve. Don’t get him wrong Steve deserved happiness and Sam couldn’t blame him for what he did, if he had the chance he would go and live a life with Riley, save him and then still meet Steve and save everyone with the benefit of hindsight. 

It was a fantasy but he couldn’t deny he’d take even a basic version of it. 

On the other hand, past-Peggy and past-Bucky have no bearing on the present and Peggy is still dead here and Bucky has an old man for a best friend. 

It’s hard not to feel left behind. 

On another hand, thinking of his feelings on it makes him feel sick and uncomfortable. Steve probably saved past-Bucky and had an undamaged version of him and that made Sam feel mad—just because someone had issues didn’t make them less worthy of love—at Steve and then mad at himself, any version of Bucky deserved happiness and Steve did too. 

It was all a tangled net of feelings and Sam wanted to keep them far from his mind on this not date. 

Bucky didn’t feel the same. “I’m—I’m happy for him.” 

“You don’t sound so sure,” Sam pointed out. He wanted to steer this conversation away. This was a topic they both avoided. “It’s complicated.”

“He deserves happiness,” Bucky said, and that he sounded sure of. “It’s hard not to feel good enough.” 

Nail on the head. 

Sam didn’t know what to say to that, he felt rage for Bucky, for himself. He settled on, “Yeah.” 

“It sucks that changing the past can’t affect the present, like in that movie.  _ Into the Future.” _

“ _ Back to the Future,”  _ Sam corrected, cringing at the obviously wrong title. “You know that.” 

“Do I?” Bucky dramatically pressed a hand to his heat. “I am but a feeble, weak-minded old man. You know I was 100 before I ate a vegetable, all I ate as a child was potatoes the army served trash.” 

Sam laughed and kicked Bucky in the shins under the table. “Feeble old man, my ass.” 

“That’s America’s Ass,” Bucky said before he broke off into laughter. When they calmed down Sam took a moment to appreciate Bucky’s honest smile, it was small but genuine. 

“Apparently,” Bucky lightly kicked Sam’s foot. More of a tap. “The ant-guy made that joke the first time and then it spread a bit.” 

“Scott’s an idiot,” Sam said, not unkindly. “But a funny idiot.” 

“The best kind are.”

“You’d know,” Sam couldn’t help himself, he played it cool though, never laugh at your own quips, and, if you can, try not to smile. But Bucky cracked a smile and looked down and Sam turned away, acting like the table next to theirs was suddenly very interesting. 

“I walked into that.” 

They lapse into silence as they wait for their food, soft music plays in the dining room. 

“How can you like flying?” Bucky asked, like if he didn’t ask that moment he'd lose his nerve. Sam wondered if he was see-through to Bucky. He couldn’t be.

“Hmm?”

“Like, one malfunction and you're dead.” 

“I have a parachute.” 

“What if there’s another malfunction? 

“Two malfunctions back-to-back is a lot,” Sam tried to see what Bucky was getting at. Bucky for all his silence and sarcasm was shockingly transparent. The implications that he never could hide anything from Hydra isn’t lost on Sam. “Some people are scared of guns and we both use them.”

“Yeah but guns can be controlled, what about a strong wind or something.” 

“I can handle it,” Sam felt oddly defensive of heights now. 

“I just don’t like heights, that’s all,” Bucky shrugged. 

“I get it,” Sam hated how Bucky somehow knew exactly how to draw out what Sam would rather keep hidden. He does it with surgeons touch, never going too far but far enough. 

“You used to be scared of hearts. Heights,” Bucky swallowed, he took a drink of water. “I mean—meant heights.” 

It’s like a ninja breaking into Sam’s heart and casually and thoughtfully bringing down the walls. 

“It’s complicated,” Sam was evading Bucky’s question. He wanted to answer it. And he didn’t. He compromised with himself. “My friend, Riley, he had a Falcon suit too, he um, he died, an explosion brought him down.” 

Bucky ran a hand over his hair. “I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to—to remind you of that.” 

“It was a while ago,” Sam brushed it off, he was unknowable, steady, unyielding. 

“Time can be weird,” Bucky said and it was such a Bucky thing to say Sam wanted to...well do a lot of things. 

Sam just nodded. This was getting far too deep and off topic, it was feeling like a real date, which it wasn’t. He was supposed to be judging Bucky’s plans and dating techniques. 

“Just a pointer, don’t talk about the deep shit until the third date at least.” 

“One time on a date, way back when, the girl I was out with talked about computers the whole time.” 

“Was it interesting?” Sam asked, not saying how glad he was the Bucky was starting to remember the good. 

“So interesting,” Bucky said. “On another, it was a double date, it was with two girls I thought were friends but they were actually dating and thought me and Steve were gay and this was just a cover up date.” 

“You’re shitting me right now.”

“I’m not,” Bucky stressed, he looked very serious about this. “It was so bizarre and I felt so bad, she was so embarrassed and scared when she found out the truth.” 

“You were cool with it? It was the 40’s?”

“It was weird at first to think about, I didn’t want either of them to get hurt and no one talked about that kind of thing,” Bucky shrugged, too tense to be casual. “I don’t remember much after that besides being drafted but somewhere along the way I figured some things out.” 

This was the vaguest Bucky has been all night. 

Sam knew as a counselor and knew that silence was a powerful tool. Too little and you risked suffocating someone and too much left empty space where there should be something. 

“Must’ve been quite a culture shock,” Sam said. 

“I thought I was being messed with,” Bucky’s fingers played with the tablecloth. “Hydra turned my brain into mush so many times it took me a while to remember it but they used to let me remember things and try to escape. Would even let me win.” 

“Why would they do that?” Sam wanted to rip all of Hydra to shreds, knowing objectively that they were cruel was nothing compared to hearing Bucky talk about it.”

Bucky didn’t look angry, he looked tired. That was alright, Sam could be angry for him. “I think part of it was just to be cruel, to watch as I realized that I hadn’t really escaped, they just let me out. Some of it was experimental and some of it was to make sure if during a mission I would remember something I would still be loyal. Shuri said it got the brainwashing down to deeper levels of my brain. Well in layman's terms.” 

“That is honestly so fucked up.” 

In an echo from Sam earlier Bucky just said in a quiet voice, “Yeah.” 

_ Well shit.  _ So much for keeping it light. Sam felt the need to make a joke, lighten up the mood but he didn’t want to take away from the seriousness of this. 

The thing that breaks and tension is the waiter coming with their food. The food is delicious and lightens up the mood just fine.

“When I came here I used to always get the same thing,” Bucky took a bite from his burger and whipped his mouth off. 

“Which was?” 

“The omelet. I think I was a breakfast person but anyway before I was drafted I remember coming here all alone for some peace and the owner at the time knew my regular order and gave some special dessert thing paid for everything and told me that when I come back I ought to try something new and his menu was more than just one thing. So once I remember this place I’ve been coming to it trying to taste everything.”

“And what’s the best thing they’ve got?” Sam asked, trying not to think of a scared Bucky going out to the favorite place thinking he was going to die. 

Bucky smiled, every bit the bastard that made him wonderful and said, “So far. The omelet.”

Sam chuckled. “I had the best omelet of my life in a run-down shop in Italy while I was stalking you.”

“Italy had some good food.”

“I knew you were there,” Sam felt a little like doing a fist-pump or victory dance but held back. 

“I was only there for a little bit.” 

“Please tell me you were in Dubai.” 

“At least I was on the right track. It felt like hunting a ghost half the time.”

“At least you got to see cool shit.” 

“Is that how you picked where to go next, cool shit?” Sam had noticed no pattern in where Bucky was going, sometimes he jumped countries over just to come back to a country right next door to the original one. 

“And Hydra hidden money,” Bucky explained, he licked one of his fingers clean and Sam forced his eyes to meet Bucky’s. “They hid it in custom made caskets. They’d make it look like a funeral and even get a headstone and a fake name and everything and definitely had a dead body.” 

“Disgusting.” If Bucky’s fear was hights his was decaying bodies. 

“Yeah but smart, the names were all in code and one will lead you to another,” Bucky used a napkin this time to rid his fingers and mouth from the sauce. 

“I’d haunt Hydra if they killed me and used my casket for blood money hiding,” Sam shook his head. 

“You believe in ghosts?” Bucky asked.

From there the conversation stayed light, they talked about ghosts and cracked jokes and when the waiter came over to their table and asked if they wanted dessert and Bucky shut it down. 

Sam raised an eyebrow at him. “Desert here bad? Because if you do that on a date it may come off as a little, well controlling.” 

“No, no, it’s just,” Bucky seemed to be searching for the right words. “I, there is another thing you’ll need some room for.”

“That’s all you had to say.”

The waiter came back with the check. Bucky picked it up immediately. 

“No, no, no, no,” Sam snatched the check. “We split it. It’s twenty-eigh—twenty-twenty-three, we split the check.”

“But if I ask her I should pay,” Bucky reached for the check and Sam held it behind his back.

RIght, this was a trial. “Still, by your logic technically I asked you so I should pay.” 

“But, I picked the place.” 

“Let’s split it then.” 

“Fine.” 

*

“Can’t believe you were going to pay for my meal with blood money,” Sam said as they walked down the sidewalk. 

“It’s superhero money now,” Bucky held out a finger. “Wait here a second.” 

“What are you doing?”

“It’s a surprise,” Bucky turned on his heel and rounded the corner near them. Sam rolled his eyes, already guessing what he was doing. He imagined it was something stupid but when Bucky came back holding a thornless red rose with a sheepish expression and shoving it into Sam’s hand. 

“That was plan two,” Bucky said, already walking again. 

“Do people really sell roses on street corners?” Sam couldn’t help but smell the rose. “Bucky,” Sam jogged a bit and caught up with Bucky. “Hold on a second.” 

Bucky stopped. “What? Do people not like flowers anymore.”

“No dumbass people still like flowers but wait for just a second, I have an idea,” Sam turned around and rounded the same corner Bucky did and found an old lady with a flower stand. 

“I just sold a rose like that,” the old lady said. “You the lucky sweetheart.” 

Sam didn’t think he could explain this away easily so he just shrugged. “I guess. Now I need to get him a flower back.” 

“Of course,” she said. 

He bought a bright yellow daffodil, it would contrast well with all the dark colors Bucky wore. 

“You two lovebirds have fun,” the old lady called after him as he made his way back to Bucky. 

Sam threw the flower at him, and Bucky caught it without thinking. “Here.” 

“It’s…” Bucky was looking at the flower ever cautiously. “Very yellow.” 

“You wear yellow all the time so I assume it’s your favorite,” Sam deadpanned. 

Bucky smelled the flower, the petals brushed against his nose. “So observant.” 

Sam shoved Bucky with his shoulder and got one in return.

“What even is your favorite color?” Sam asked. “Black isn’t a color.”

“Is this what people talk about these days, I miss talking about the literal end of mankind.” 

“We still talk about that.”

“Yellow,” Bucky answered abruptly. 

“Smartass.” 

“I don’t have one, yellow is as good as any color,” Bucky loosely held the flower as he walked. “Why not. What’s yours.” 

“Red, obviously. Before the rose and after.”

“So basic. A primary color,” 

Sam smirked. “Yellow is a primary color too. Well, when talking about painting, not physics but no one ever talks about physics.” 

“Shut up,” Bucky lightly knocked their shoulders together. “My brain is swiss cheese.” 

“Maybe more like string cheese,” Sam feared he went too far but Bucky didn’t say anything else as they walked in silence before coming up to an ice cream place. 

“Was this from ye olden days?” Sam asked as they got in the short line. 

Bucky shook his head, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets. “Some consider the early 2000s to be ye olden days.” 

“Ancient history to the youngins,” Sam stood in his tiptoes to see the menu.

“God,” Bucky mumbled. “I sound like an old man. I’m probably going to start yelling at the kids to get off my lawn.” 

The line moved quickly. “I’ll pay for this,” Bucky said. “As a normal friend treat thing.” 

“Fine,” Sam didn’t want to fight in line. “I’m paying next time.” 

If Bucky found it weird Sam accidentally implied they’d be going on another date he didn’t show it. They’d been out to eat before but it was after missions and quick. 

Bucky just nodded. He ordered vanilla and Sam ordered pistachio. 

“Basic,” Sam said as they got their ice cream. 

“Mock me all you want but you can’t go wrong with a good ol’ fashioned vanilla.” 

“I once ate expired vanilla ice cream, I sucked.” 

“Why would you eat it if it was expired.” 

“I didn’t know that,” Sam noticed what building they were seeing the back of and turned around. “How the Hell did we get back here?” 

Here was the back of Sam’s apartment building. “I know these streets.” 

“Alright, city boy,” he awkwardly stood there. “You got me.” 

“Come on,” Bucky was walking towards his place. “I’ll walk you home.” 

“Fine,” Sam actually didn’t mind that. Not at all. “But if she doesn’t want to tell you where she lives you gotta be okay with that.” 

“Who?” Bucky asked. “Oh Kat, I think it’s classified.” 

“Technically my place is classified too,” Sam ignored him forgetting this was a trial-date. They walked up the steps in silence and came to Sam’s door. Now it was Bucky’s turn to be awkward. 

“How did I do?” Bucky whispered, he leaned against the door frame. 

“Seven out of ten.” Sam put a hand on the doorknob. “Always room for improvement.”

“Is this where the kiss comes.” 

“In Hallmark movies,” Sam quipped even though he’s kissed people on their doorstep after a first date. 

“This felt a little like a Hallmark movie.” 

Before he could help himself Sam said, “That’s how you know the date is good.”

Bucky smiled. “Night, Sam.” 

“Night,” Sam unlocked his door and let himself in. He sat on the couch a little dazed, still clutching the flower. 

Maybe he wasn’t that unknowable. 

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

It had been a day but Bucky can’t stop thinking about Sam. It’s not really a new thing but he feels like a teenage girl every time his eyes find the bright gold daffodil in its tiny vase. 

_That’s how you know the date is good._

Bucky knew objectively that date could mean two things. It could mean the experience of the date, the dinner, the ice cream, the flowers, the walking. Or it could be the person, your _date._

Sam probably meant the experience of the date. That’s why he was there, to see Bucky’s plans, judge them. Looking at the flower, Bucky let himself fantasize, just for a moment that it was a real date. It had felt like a real date for a while there. But it wasn’t. This isn’t a Hallmark movie. 

Still, Bucky couldn’t stop thinking about how real it felt. About the conversation and the flowers. He’d never look at yellow the same again. 

Bucky had told Sam he _figured some stuff out_ but now he wasn’t so sure. The therapist he saw in Wakanda had told not to doubt everything, that misremembering little things wasn’t that big of a deal and everyone did it, _did I dream that or was it a memory._

But it was like picking a scab, he tried to find something he knew for sure about Sam and himself, _knowing things about a person isn’t the same as knowing them._ He knew things about James Buchanan Barnes, he read the museum text, he’d watched the documentaries. But does he really know himself? 

And Sam.

Does he really know much about Sam, he knows his favorite color, his dead best friend, he likes heights. But he doesn’t even know where Sam grew up. If Sam is short for Samuel? If he has a good relationship with his parents? If he has siblings?

How can he even claim to feel things for Sam when he doesn’t know him. 

He should be thinking of Katherine, of her smile and hair, and laugh, of how they looked out for each other. How he liked her company. He remembered everyone's actions and words about love was that it was between a man and a woman, how happiness was a woman by your side and two-point-five children. 

He’s always had that fantasy, the world points at it and declares that happiness. 

He doesn’t want to think about this. He wants to look at the daffodil and remember the way Sam looked suppressed and impressed when Bucky took him back home without him relizing that.

It was a given that he had a crush on Katherine, she was a nice woman and they were both single but now that the seed of doubt was planted Bucky couldn’t help but feel a hole in his feelings for her. 

Why was everything so complicated?

He felt the pressing sensation on his skull of an incoming headache. He had been working up the nerve to ask Katherine out but, did he really want to?

What does he even want? 

If this how Steve felt when he decided to go back in time and live a life with Peggy? The endless tumbling what-ifs. 

Bucky took some pills and took out his phone, he opened the contacts. He hovered over Sam’s name. He got out of the app, heart hammering in his chest. 

He stared at his home screen. Talking to Sam was easy but something deep down railed against calling him. Inconvenising him. At not wanting to end the call. 

He opened his contacts again.

He stood up, pressed his fingertips to his throbbing head, Hydra had messed up his head so much they were impossible to stop without major brain surgery, and even then it wasn’t a given. 

He sat back down and pressed _call._

He waited with sick dread deep in his stomach. One ring, two rings, three rings, four. 

Then Sam’s voice, alight even through a phone speaker said, “Hi.” 

Bucky closed his eyes and held the phone against his ear. “Hi,” he eventually said. “I um,” God he was so stupid for this. “Was bored.” 

“It’s,” Sam stopped, clearly checking the time. “Half-past midnight, why aren’t you asleep.” 

“Why aren’t you,” Bucky asked. “Sleepless night for you too?” 

“It seems like it always is,” Sam said, he sounded tired but not like he’d just woken up. “What are you doing?" 

“Talkin’ to you,” Bucky leaned back against the couch. His head still hurt but this gave him something to focus on. 

“Smartass,” Sam muttered.

“Takes one to know one.” 

“Excuse you, I am always perfectly civil. To those who deserve it.” 

“I don’t deserve it?” Bucky was joking, he didn’t want to be someone Sam fake smiled at or didn’t tease.

“Never.”

Bucky turned his head against the couch back and lowered the phone, he needed a minute, he took a deep breath, holding the phone against his stomach for a moment. 

He heard Sam start to talk again and raised his phone to his ear. “Ready for tomorrow?” 

“Hmm?” 

Sam chuckled, Bucky felt the bundle of nerves in his gut release. “The hospital thing.” 

“Of course,” Bucky did not in fact remember. “The hospital thing.” He vaguely recalled Fury telling them something about it months ago. God, he didn’t even know the date. 

The knot of nerves returned, this time tighter, a dense bundle he felt like a physical thing. “I don’t like those kinds of things.” 

“Me either,” Sam whispered, like it was a secret. It kind of was. At public events, in front of the cameras, Sam was a natural. He looked at ease and talked with a cadence that made people listen. _That’s Captain America, a shining star._ “I don’t mind it as much as you but it gets exhausting.” 

It all felt like a trap, like someone was going to start to read off Russian and he’d attack, like someone would read a list of names or show videos and prove he shouldn’t be here, that he was a killer. 

“It’s in New York so Spiderman was invited, but no one knows if he’ll show,” Sam continued. 

“I wish he would,” Bucky understood it was selfish but let himself have this one. “It would be entertaining, he’s very awkward.” 

“Like you.” 

“Ha. Ha. Ha. More like you since he never shuts up.” 

He hoped Sam was smiling on the other side of the line. “You wanna go there.” 

“Where is there exactly, I was just stating a fact.” 

“Alright, James, let’s do this.” 

Too fast he replied, “Who the Hell is James?” Once the words left Bucky’s lips he wanted the floor to open up and swallow him whole. _Stupid. Stupid. Stupid._ Why did he say that? He wanted to turn back time and just not. Hang up and kill himself.

But Sam only laughed. “Must have the wrong number.” 

Bucky still wanted to hang up the phone and kill himself. “If you have me as James in your phone…” 

“You’ll what,” Sam challenged, he was a cocky right now, sure of himself, it’s intoxicating and Bucky never wanted him to any other way. “Forget to kill me.” 

“Shut up,” Bucky knew he was teasing but he kept waiting for the real contempt to come, to mock him for really being stupid enough to forget his own name. 

“As you wish.” 

“Is that a _Princess Bride_ reference,” Bucky was a bit proud of himself for remembering the name of it. “For real.” 

“You’ve seen _The_ _Princess Bride.”_

Bucky shrugged and remembered he was on the phone. “Bits and pieces,” he lied. “It’s always on.” 

“I knew you were a hopeless romantic.” 

“Whatever,” Bucky said, which meant yes. 

*

When Sam was very little he used to not be able to fall asleep. It wasn’t because of trauma but just simple childhood insomnia. His mother suffered from insomnia too and they would talk as the sun rose. They’d drink tea and eventually, his mother’s voice lulled him to sleep.

Now, not able to sleep for trauma-related reasons, Sam leaned against his headboard and talked to Bucky. Something deep inside Sam seemed to settle in Bucky’s company, the feeling of not being enough, that one day someone was going to read off a list of every bad thing he’s ever done or thought and take him down a peg, that he doesn’t deserve this life he’s built. It’s irrational but he can’t stop thinking it. 

Bucky doesn’t know him, not really, but he sees enough of what’s behind the Captain America facade. 

It’s enough to lull him to sleep. He closed his eyes and listened to Bucky’s voice, he spoke slowly most of the time, shaping each word with care. His accent reminded Sam of old-fashioned black-and-white movies. 

“Thank you,” Sam said without thinking. 

“For what?” came the slow reply, after forgetting his first name Bucky had been speaking slower than normal, with more time before and between words. 

“Calling,” Sam was almost asleep and far too daring. 

“You can call me anytime,” Bucky whispered, his voice barely coming through the line. “I don’t need to sleep much. It’s the serum.” 

“Still get some rest,” Sam rolled onto his side and turned the phone on speaker. “Long day ahead of us.” 

“I don’t want to think about it,” Bucky sounded painfully honest. “Not right now.” 

“Don’t worry,” Sam closed his eyes. “I’ll protect you from schmoosing.” 

He listened to Bucky’s breathing for a moment, he’s alive, he’s alive. Sam is alive to hear Bucky breathing. 

“I don’t doubt it, Cap’n.” Bucky fell silent. “Thank you,” he said suddenly. 

“For what?” 

“Answering.” 

Sam closed his eyes very tightly, shutting down any feeling besides sleep. “Good night, Bucky.” 

“Night.” 

*

Bucky did not want to look at Sam for one main reason, he feared he would not want to look away. He was in a red suit jacket and dress pants with a white dress button up shirt under it. Bucky couldn’t even make a joke about his basic color taste. 

He also couldn’t fool himself, Sam looked nice. Like, really nice. 

The head doctor or PR person from the hospital was speaking to the news. “The donations SHIELD has made towards this hospital and its research has been amazing and the kids are really looking forward to meeting superheroes.” 

“The spider-brat didn’t show,” Sam said. Suddenly very close. 

“Lucky him,” Bucky muttered, the cameras were not on him but they were going to take some more pictures. ‘Probably past his curfew,” Bucky added even though it was like five o’clock.

Sam huffed. “Nice pocket square.” 

Bucky had been hoping he would not notice it and that he would. It was the same bright yellow of the daffodil. “I told you yellow was my favorite color.” 

Sam smiled, not the flashy amiable smile he used for photo-shoots and public appearances, but the real one, a little smaller but genuine. 

“Is that Katherine,” Sam asked, the smile gone as he nodded in the direction of their protection detail. Not really for them but for all the non-superhero high profile people here, there was going to be some fancy gala for fundraising and celebrating some anniversary of the hospital. Katherine was eyeing him.

Bucky just nodded and turned to look at Katherine, he smiled a little at her in greeting. 

She turned her eyes back to the head doctor, standing at the door with her hands folded behind her back she looked very intimidating. 

“She’s pretty,” Sam pointed out. “If you’re into that kind of thing.” 

“What kind of thing?” 

“Brunettes.” 

Bucky did not touch his very brown hair. He just chuckled sarcastically. “I hate you.” 

“Aww,” Sam cooed. “I hate you too.” 

It sounded far too fond and teasing. The moment was shattered as they took another picture and then were taken to meet with some of the kids. 

Bucky did not want to meet the kids. Not because he didn’t like kids, he wasn’t sure if he did or not, but he didn’t want them to be scared of him. He lagged behind Sam, like he was a shield (pun intended) to hide behind. 

The kid was smiling when they entered his room. It was clear why they were meeting with him, he was an amputee, bandages wrapped around the stump. The donations were for cutting edge medicine which included prosthetics, spear-headed by Wakandan scientists. 

“Hi,” Sam said. He gave a small smile at the kid and his parents who were now standing, they looked exhausted. He shook their hands. “Nice to meet you.”

“Hi,” the kid said, directly at Bucky. “I like your arm.” 

Bucky nodded and then slid off his jacket, his dress shirt was long-sleeve but it was more visible. “I like it too,” Bucky sat on the edge of his bed and unbuttoned the cuff and rolled up the sleeve. 

“Can I touch it?” 

Bucky held out his exposed vibranium forearm. “Yes.” 

The kid touched it, almost reverently. “It’s so cool.” 

“What’s your name?” 

“Matthew,” he said, still touching the arm.

“James, but my friends call me Bucky.” 

“My frieinds call me ‘Thew.” 

Bucky snorted. The parents and Sam were watching him, he tried to ignore it. 

“I get to play you now when we play superheroes,” Matthew said, sounding very excited about the fact. 

“Yeah?” 

Matthew nodded. “And my friend is Captain America.” 

Bucky leaned forward and whispered, “Mine is too.” 

Matthew’s eyes were wide, he looked between Sam and Bucky like he was seeing them for the time. “You guys are really best friends?” 

“‘Course.” 

Matthew nodded very solemnly. “That’s cool.” 

“I know. Friends are good.” 

“Can you feel this,” Matthew ran a finger very so gently up and down Bucky’s forearm. 

“Not really, it’s like holding something and feeling the weight of someone else touching but it’s not the same.” 

Matthew withdrew his hand, looking oddly defensive. 

“Look, I’m not going to sugarcoat it, it’s a lot to get used to. But there are upsides. The jokes, the lack of paper cuts, and hand cramps. It’s not like a real arm,” Bucky twisted his arm, flexing his fingers. “And yours may not be the same if the nerve damage is enough. But it’s close enough and very very cool.” 

Matthew shrugged.

Bucky didn’t know where to take the conversation next. But someone came in with a camera and they took more pictures. 

As Bucky was leaving, Sam was just out of earshot, Matthew grabbed his hand. “Are you and Mr. Wilson dating?” 

Bucky sputtered. “What?” 

“You look at him like they do in the movies.” 

“It’s complicated,” Bucky said, that was an understatement but it would do and gave the kid a small smile and squeezed his hand before leaving. 

*

They visited some more kids and answered more questions and colored a few times and by the time they were done with the main visit Sam was tired and he still had to attend the gala. He kept replaying the phone conversation in his head, kept replaying how kind Bucky had been today. 

It’s not that he didn’t know Bucky was kind at heart it was one thing to know an objective fact and one thing to see it. 

“You did good with the kids,” Sam said as they lingered in front of the doors of the hospital waiting for the car. 

“They’re like goats.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. _Goats._ “Really?”

“Just that you can’t treat them like they’re delicate and you have let them come to you,” Bucky explained and Sam remembered he had goats in Wakanda. 

“What happened to your goats?” 

“I was only ever helping,” Bucky slid his hands into his pocket, the bright gold flash of color over his heart stood out in the lazy lighting of the street. “The farmer takes good care of them.” 

“Did they like you?” Sam asked. “The goats?” 

Bucky smiled, mostly to himself. “I like to think so.” Bucky looked like he was going to ask a question but a SHIELD car pulled up and they both got in.

The rode to wherever-the-hell the gala was being held at. Sam did not know Manhattan, he did not want to get to know it. 

Bucky knocked their knees together and didn’t even seem to realize it. As comfortable as he looked with the kids he now looked the reverse, all that easy charm turned inside out. He was trying to hold himself very still, his brow was creased as he thought deeply about something, Sam could guess his heart was pounding. 

Sam let himself look at Bucky for a second, just appreciating the lines of his face in the dim light, the suit really did a lot for him and the pocket square...he did not want to unravel his thoughts on that.

“Stop staring,” Bucky said. 

“You have something on your face,” Sam automatically lied. One of the oldest in the books. 

Bucky reached up to brush his face, not for one second doubting Sam. “Did I get it?” 

“Yeah.”

They arrived at the party, it was held in a very modern-looking building, all steel, and marble and sleek lines. Sam got out of the car first, he waiting on the sidewalk for Bucky. 

Bucky slowly got out of the car, his hands into his pockets, his metal arm completely hidden. “Wanna play hooky?” Bucky whispered, as they walked into the party—sorry gala.

Sam’s lips quirked. “Such a bad influence.” 

“I have a reputation to maintain,” Bucky took a deep breath as they entered, the inside looked just like the outside. A giant open room, filled with people milling about and tables, steel light fixtures hung from the ceiling. A stage was along the far wall, with red curtain obscuring it from view.

Sam plastered a smile on his face and started to mill about, saying hi, and being polite. As he does so he kept an eye on Bucky, who looked ready to crawl out of his skin as a couple started to talk to him. 

“Excuse me,” a woman said into a mic, she stood in the stage in front of the curtains. “Please take your seat, the ceremony will begin in a few moments.

Sam found their table, it was just him, Bucky, and two strangers. Bucky was already sitting when Sam got there. The speech commenced, the man handed out awards and Sam clapped when it was time to and stopped on cue.

After that dinner was served. 

The strangers were middle-aged, a man and a woman, they looked to be married. And they clearly were uncomfortable but have hidden it under a veil of pleasantry. 

“So what are your names, I’m afraid I don’t keep up with um, superheroes and assassins very much,” the woman asked. She sounded a bit British, her accent sharpening her words. 

“Sam Wilson,” Sam made sure he was a picture of civil. 

“Bucky Barnes,” Bucky said in that slow voice of his, choosing each word ever so carefully. 

“Well,” she folded her hands on the table. “I am Emilia Gray and this is my husband Alan.” 

“Nice to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Gray,” Sam shook their hands and when Bucky held out his very human hand they ignored it. 

Bucky dropped his arm back down. 

“Do you know if Steve Rogers will be here?” Mr. Gray asked, he did not sound Britsh. “I would love to meet him.” 

“He turned down his invitation,” Sam nodded sympathetically. “Still reeling from all he did to bring everyone back.”

“That is so terrible,” Mrs. Gray said, she put her hand over her husband. “But I am thankful to him. It was so hard losing those five years but I can’t imagine being one of the ones left behind.” 

“Yeah,” Sam pressed the tip of his shoe against Bucky’s foot. Grounding both of them. “I can’t even imagine.” 

Luckily their meal came and it saved Sam from having to continue to keep up the conversation. To call it a meal it was generous. The appetizer was tiny and the main dish was very good but only several bites of meat with weird gourmet greens.

Sam was still hungry as they went into the desert and long after. If he was hungry he couldn’t imagine how hungry Bucky with his super-soldier metabolism.

Mr. and Mrs. Gray went on about the food and how good it was. 

“It’s about the finer details,” Mrs. Gray said as Sam and Bucky finished up their desserts quickly and the couple slowly ate. “You have to grow up with this food to really enjoy it.” 

Sam wasn’t sure who that jab was for specifically. He slid his foot against Bucky’s all the way. A silent reminder to keep calm and cool and not start anything. 

Bucky set his spoon down. “I’ll be sure to slow down next time and enjoy it,” Bucky’s voice had an underlying edge to it. Mrs. Gray either did not hear or simply did not care. 

“But growing up without definitely builds character,” Mr. Gray said. “Like Steve Rogers, if he had a lot he never would have worked so hard to prove himself. It’s very admirable to see someone pull themselves up to a better life.” 

Sam felt a surge of anger rush through him, Bucky pressed his foot back against Sam’s. He could not snap here. He had to take the high road but it would be so easy to snap. “Steve certainly has a lot of character.” 

The conversation silted there. 

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Mr. Gray said. “But does the world still need a Captain America replacement I don’t mean to offend but couldn’t you simply stay as Falcon.”

Sam took a drink, stalling to clam himself, Bucky half-put his foot on top of Sam’s. He had no idea who was holding who back anymore.

“I hope Nazis don’t try to take over the world, or aliens or robots or whatever, but I’m Captain America because Steve gave me the shield and I’m trying to honor that every day.”

“Such an honor,” Mr. Gray smiled, it was weak and showed no teeth. “Would you ever give the shield to someone else? It would be impossible to keep up being Captain America forever without any superpowers?” 

“Hypothetically, of course, I would,” Sam reached under the table and curled his hand around Bucky’s knee. He just, he needed someone to bring him back down to Earth. Bucky was good at that. “It would be incredible for it to be a mantle passed down through the generations.” 

Mr. Gray took a spoonful of his desert, he still had a third left. “I sure hope it will be a mantle. The youth today are so selfish that they need a symbol to look too.” 

Sam did not want to talk about the “youths”. Thankfully a person came over to chat with the Grey’s and Sam and Bucky slipped out. 

In a corner away from the crowd, Sam felt like he could be at home in his own skin. “God, I can’t stand people like that,” Sam whispered into Bucky’s ear, they were leaning side by side against the back wall, in the shadows of the lights. “All fake polite. I honestly would prefer outright disdain.” 

“I can’t stand people.” 

‘“Hey,” Sam put a hand to his heart, mock offended. 

“Hey,” Bucky smiled, mischief in his eyes. “You’re not really a person. You’re a bird.” 

“Forgot my wings.” 

Bucky pressed his hand against Sam’s lower back, in the small gap between him and the wall, and ventured higher as Sam leaned more on his feet than the wall. 

“They must be somewhere around here,” Bucky’s hand fell away. 

Sam checked his watch. “Stay here,” Sam ordered. “I’m going to go make the rounds. 

“Aye, aye, Captain,” Bucky gave a mock salute. 

Sam went around one more time, made sure to smile and ask about others, to nod sympathetically when needed, and laugh when it called for it. To be Captain America is to give. 

He looked over at Bucky, who was still against the wall, watching him back. Sometimes though, he wanted to take. 

Sam made his way back to Bucky. “Wanna play hooky?” Sam asked as they walked towards the doors. 

Bucky walked slightly behind him. “I thought you’d never ask.” 

Before they made it to the door Katherine stopped Bucky with a hand on his arm. “Can I talk to you?” 

Bucky looked at Sam. Sam had a choice: he could be neutral and let Katherine take Bucky away but he wanted to be a good friend and he nodded and gave Bucky a slight shove. Go for it. 

Bucky nodded at Katherine. Sam did not want to think about what this all means, about why his heart is tight in his chest, like a twisted echo of earlier when he saw the gold pocket-square.

*

“I think I want to go on a date with you,” Katherine said as they entered an adjacent room. “I had to ask before I lost my nerve and you look good in a suit. I figured I should go for it, carpe diem and yolo and all that.” 

Bucky was stunned, all those words came tumbling very quickly. He thought of Sam’s nod—of their feet under the table, the hand on his knee, he must be delusional to even consider the possibility of—and what he should want. 

“I’m sorry,” Bucky put his hands in his pockets and then took them out. He didn’t know what to do with his hands. ‘I’m just shocked.” 

“Shit. I read the signs wrong, I am so sorry, if you never want to work with me again I totally get it. Huge professional relationship breach.” 

“I um, I didn’t say no.” 

She locked eyes with him. “Really?” 

“Yeah, really,” Bucky didn’t want to tear apart his feelings right now. He did for the same reason he didn’t want to look at Sam. It all boiled down to the same thing: fear. 

“Okay,” Katherine smiled. “I’ll um—we can text out the details, I have to work.” 

“Of course.” 

They awkwardly left and Bucky found Sam outside in the car. “Did you ask her?” 

“She asked me,” Bucky sat down in the car and it started to roll down the sidewalk. 

“Get it, man,” Sam patted him on the shoulder. “Good for you, all that stressing out for nothing.” 

_Not for nothing._ Bucky just nodded. Sam was happy for him. Sam wouldn’t be happy for him if he—no, no, nope. Not going down this road. 

The rest of the ride was mostly silent, it was comfortable but something in Bucky wanted to break it.

When he got home he ate most of the little he had in his fridge, he saw on the news a video of Spiderman, he told the camera he was sorry he missed the hospital visit and did a few flips for the camera before going on about how cool Captain America’s wings were and the Winter Soldier's arm. 

Bucky scrolled through social media and very, very deliberately did not look at the flower or call Sam. He had to call someone but not Sam. He pulled up his contacts and hovered over Steve’s name for a few moments before clicking call. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you to everyone who reads this. special thanks to everyone who left comments and kudos. all the support means the world to me
> 
> next and final chapter next Saturday


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow would you look at that? me posting early. 
> 
> I have my reasons, one this chapter is the shortest because I've decided to cut it off at a certain point and add a bonus chapter! Yay. 
> 
> alright I hope you enjoy

Everyone is a liar, in the purest sense, by either denial or by omission. Everyone keeps secrets from others and themselves. The hard truth is you will never know someone entirely. And you may not even know yourself. (Or maybe that’s just another lie)

Bucky had been trying to know himself and he can say, in the quiet of his own mind, that he had a crush on Sam Wilson. Crush seemed like such an understatement, but _ in love  _ oversold it. Falling in love, maybe?

How can words express the longing he feels, how can it encompass the looks and not-looks, the seemingly endless nerves around Sam that he’s going to look at Bucky and just know, the contradictory desire for him to know? The high-action moments with adrenaline and gunfire and Sam by his side. 

But it’s more than that, it’s the quiet moments, the phone calls, the flowers, the walking, that really cemented the feeling. 

Here’s another fact: humans are creatures of habit, even if the habit hurts. 

Bucky called Steve, like an addict. Such masochistic delight from picking a scab, from turning over the hurt in your heart until you know every angle of it.

They’re a relief, Steve’s actions, in their honesty. Bucky wasn’t good enough. In the sea of uncertainty, the truth felt nice. It was a blade to cut himself with. 

He deserved it. 

_ “Buck,”  _ Steve answered, he sounded like that fad of technological whimsy, the one where people would record themselves and some new app would make them sound older. But this wasn’t an app, it was real.”How have you been?”

Bucky closed his eyes, Steve sounded like the bits and pieces of memories he had of Steve’s father. “Hangin’ in there,” Bucky said. 

“Buck,” Steve started, he sounded so old, Bucky couldn’t fathom it, he couldn’t get over it, each syllable out of his mouth was a reminder of his choice. 

“Steve,” Bucky stood up, where conversations with Sam made him lay against his couch and savor the moment, this call made him pace, an itch under his skin, unscratchable. “I need to tell you something.” 

“What is it?” Steve asked, he took on the role of a supportive friend so easily. “Is it something good?” 

Bucky weighed his words. “It can be.” 

Steve chuckled. “Why are you being so cryptic?” 

Those words were a challenge. One Bucky couldn’t back down from. “I think I might be gay.” 

_ “Oh.”  _

Bucky savored his shock, it was petty and small payback for the shock of a lifetime. “Oh?”

“Yes,  _ oh. _ I, um, I didn’t know.” 

“That’s why I just told you,” Bucky was on the defensive but Steve wasn’t attacking him. 

“But you’ve dated girls before.” 

“It’s complicated.” 

“So you were never attracted to them?” 

“What is this 20 questions?” Bucky paced back and forth. “Aren’t you supposed to say shit about being proud and accepting.” 

“I am proud and accepting,” Steve paused, Bucky could see him in his mind’s eye, the crease between his brows when he thought about something hard, maybe he didn’t do that anymore?“I thought that was a given. Is it not?” 

“No it’s not,” Bucky winced at the ice in his words. “We grew up in the twenties and thirties, even with my messed up mind I remember how things were. How they still are, in some places.” 

“Bucky,” Steve said with an almost forced calm, it reminded him of how some people talked to their kids. “You said you think you’re gay, I just want to try and help you understand.” 

Bucky ran a hand over his face, he stopped pacing. “I’m too old to have a sexuality crisis.” 

Steve chuckled. “Is there anyone who sparked this sexuality crisis?” 

Bucky considered lying, but in that second he was weak and needed his best friend. “Sam.” 

“Sam?” 

“Suprised?” 

Steve was silent for a moment. Bucky wondered how aging worked with the serum, did it fluctuate and fail him as he aged outside the limbo of ice? “Now that I think about it, not really.”

Bucky started to pace again. “We went on a date. But not really,” Bucky didn’t know exactly how to explain this. “I mentioned having plans for a date but I didn’t manage to actually ask the girl out and then he offered to judge the plans,” he trailed off. “You had to be there.” 

“I don’t doubt it,” Steve sounded amused. “How do you manage to get yourself into situations like this?” 

“Gotta keep you on your toes.”

He could imagine Steve smiling on the other side, he could hear it when he said, “No doubt about it. Now, do you want advice or just an ear?”

Bucky sighed, why did he have to be such a good friend sometimes? “Both.” 

“Talk to me, Buck.” 

“It’s just,” Bucky had never been good with words, they felt clunky and ill-fitting on his tongue, every language like a foreign one. “I thought this whole time I wanted Katherine but maybe who I wanted was right in front of me the whole time.” 

“Maybe.” 

“But I have a date with Katherine,” Bucky kept a steady beat with his pacing, eyes straight ahead, not looking at the flower. “I don’t think Sam feels the same way.” 

“Why not?” 

“Because,” Bucky had so much proof, he turned them over in his head each time intrusive thoughts come to him. “He’s never made a move.” 

“He thinks you want Katherine.” 

Shit. Damn. Shitdamn. “Should I cancel the date?” 

Steve sighed. “Look, it’s your feelings, do you want to cancel the date?” 

“I should give her a chance,” Bucky nodded at himself, he needed to open or close that door. “Maybe the whole Sam thing isn’t that deep and I can get over it.” 

*

He went on the date with Katherine, it was at a place of her choosing, a cute coffee shop with some yellow painted walls. 

Why did they have to be yellow? 

He ordered a cappuccino, not quite sure what exactly it was. She got jasmine tea, Bucky didn’t put up a fuss when they both paid for their own drinks. It all felt so casually casual, nothing like the intense not-date.

They exchanged pleasantries in line and caught up. 

He thought of what he didn’t know about Sam and asked some questions, “Do you have siblings?” 

“No, I’m an only child,” she took a sip from her steaming tea. “I used to want siblings but eh, what can ya do.” 

The goddamn yellow was everywhere, it was on the logo, it was on the chalkboard, the seat had a yellow trim, the wooden box with a prickly plant in it was yellow. 

“I had a younger sister,” Bucky barely remembered her, she was dead now, with his parents and most of his brothers in arms. “She was a handful.”

“You always want what you can’t have,” she smiled at her tea, it was still steaming. 

He smiled, it was all light and fun and  _ not what he wanted.  _ His feelings for Sam have stayed where he carefully placed them for a while now, locked away under the surface of his thoughts but they were pushing up, invading each thought with what-ifs and half-baked images. 

He was supposed to be getting over Sam but what if, what if, what if. 

They made light conversation but Bucky mulled over his feelings for Sam, he’s accepted they were there but all this time he’s thought of how to get rid of them but what if, what if. What if he acted on them. 

Such masochist delight, making himself sick with scenarios, going over every possible reaction. He started with the bad—mistaking it for a joke, refusing him and mocking him—and there is nowhere to go but up, the knot of nerves unraveled in Sam’s hands and Sam kissed him. He never went farther than that in his fantasies, he didn’t know how to imagine Sam’s lips on his, he just went over and over, like rewinding a video over and over again, Sam leaning forward. Maybe he’d grab Bucky’s wrists, his waist, his hips. Or maybe his neck, his hair, his jaw. 

“So who is it?” she asked. 

“What?” 

“Who is it, the person you’re using me to get over,” Katherine took a sip of her tea. “I know that look isn’t for me.” 

“Katherine—” 

“It’s fine,” Katherine’s eyes did not betray her words. “I can see you’re looking for something a bit more serious than I am anyway.” 

Bucky knew she deserved the truth but he stalled. “I’m sorry, I should’ve canceled but I didn’t want to hurt you.” 

“Well leading me on hurts more,” she didn’t sound bitter. “But I’ll get over it; not by dating someone else but by working through it alone or with friends.” 

“I’m sorry,” Bucky adverted his eyes from her honest ones to the goddamn yellow walls. “I should go.” 

“Who is it?” she asked again. “I’m not going to pressure you or anything, but I’d like to know.” 

Here goes nothing. “Sam. Wilson.” 

Her eyebrows shot up. “Sam Wilson?” 

Bucky nodded, he wanted to run but he didn’t. Courage isn’t the lack of fear, but the ability to do what needs done regardless, or something like that. “He’s kind, among other things.” 

“I’ll bet,” she set her cup down and smiled. “So why don’t you ask him out.” 

He had a million reasons but they all came down to two and a half simple words. “I’m scared

“I was scared as Hell to ask you out but do you remember what I said?” 

“Carpe diem, yolo, and all that.” 

“Exactly. Go get your man.” 

“And if I ruin our friendship?”

“Then you can blame me,” she shook her head. “Pent of feelings will ruin the friendship anyway, eventually. Might as well rip the band-aid off.” 

Bucky nodded. “I’m sorry again, I think if we met at a different time we could’ve worked out.” 

“Yeah,” she pat his hand where it rested on the table. “I’ll be fine. I don’t want to be someone second pick but we could be friends.”

Bucky stood up, he pushed in his chair and lingered for a moment. ‘I’d like that.”

She held out her hand, ‘Hi, I’m Katherine and I totally didn’t ask you out and embarrass myself while you were pinning over your best friend.”

He took her hand. “Hi, I’m Bucky and I totally didn’t lead you on while I was ignoring my feelings and having a bit of a crisis.”

“Nice to meet you,” she shook his hand firmly. “I look forward to being totally professional colleagues.” 

“Me too.” 

*

Sam almost got rid of the rose but he couldn’t. Trust was important to Sam and he hadn’t realized how much he trusted Bucky until he admitted to not being able to sleep and pressed their feet together under a table.

He can’t blame Bucky for saying yes. He’d never said anything, just let it build like something under his skin but now it was impossible to ignore.

He fell asleep after talking to Bucky.

Sam made casual friends easily, friend is a strong word. Acquaintance maybe worked better. The point is that he doesn’t give out pieces of his heart easily and in the same ninja way he made Sam open up he stole—no Sam gave it to him without relizing it—a piece.

Sam didn’t have to be anything around him, he could just be. It made something in him go quiet in a good way. 

He smelled the rose before and he could delve into his thoughts more, a knock came from the door. 

Sam looked through the peephole and saw Bucky standing there. He steeled himself and opened the door. “Finally a knock.” 

Bucky smiled almost shyly at his teasing. It made Sam want to do it endlessly. “How’d the date go.” 

“Good,” Bucky said. “In an unconventional way,’ his eyes slid past Sam to his kitchen island, where a skinny vase that looked like an unmarked measuring cylinder held the rose. He walked past Sam slowly, as if with each step he carried an unimaginable weight. “You kept it.” 

“I did,” Sam walked around the island to the other side. This felt strangely intimate. 

“I kept mine too,” Bucky brushed his fingers, his flesh and blood ones, against the soft petals. 

“It’d be a waste to throw them out,” Sam didn’t know the script for this conversation but he didn’t care. “What happened on your date.”

“We didn’t work out,” Bucky shrugged. “I still want to be her friend though, I think I got the two mixed up.” 

“It can get confusing,” Sam felt an odd rush at them not working out. 

“She wished me luck,” Bucky looked up from the rose to meet Sam’s eyes. 

Sam swallowed, it was so intense in this room and Sam wouldn’t want it any other way, even with his nerves and desperation, that thing in Sam calmed as Bucky stood there. “Luck on what.” 

“She could tell I wasn’t really invested. She said that there was someone else.” 

“Is there?” Sam asked, this couldn’t be happening, _ this couldn’t be happening. _ “Someone else.” 

Bucky looked away from him. “Yeah. I think there is.” 

Sam is completely on board with this conversation. 

“I have a question,” Bucky’s eyes found Sam’s again. “Where did you grow up?” 

Sam hadn’t been expecting that. “That’s what you want to know?” Sam asked. Bucky nodded. “Fine, I was born in Massachusetts but we moved to West Virginia when I was like six.Why?” 

“I want to know you and that seems pretty important.” 

“Anything else?” 

“Is Sam short for Samuel?” 

“Yes.” 

“What’s your middle name?” 

“Thomas”

“Are you close with your parents.” 

“Yes. I call at least once a week.” 

“Do you have siblings?”

“Yes. A sister.”

“Younger or older?” 

“Older,” Sam answered, he would admit he was amused by Bucky’s antics. “Wanna know more?” 

“Everything,” Bucky said. “My mom used to tell me to not kiss someone before I knew their full name, where they were from, and what their family is like.”

Heat ran to Sam’s checks. Goddamn, he felt like a middle-schooler. “That was smooth,” he joked because that’s what he does when faced with anything. He stood up and walked around and island. “Let’s review. I know you grew up in New York, I know Bucky is short for Buchanan which is your middle name. Did you have a good relationship with your parents?” 

“From what I can remember my mom was good, my dad not so much.” 

“Siblings?” 

“I had a younger sister.” 

“Did I get them all?” Sam asked rhetorically, he knew he got them all. “Can we kiss, then?” 

“Without my mom rolling in her grave?” Bucky stood up slowly. “Yeah.” 

“Let’s stop talking about moms and death,” Sam said and kissed Bucky. 

It felt a little like flying, the freeing feeling, the slight nerves, and the overwhelming feeling when it started but as it went on the wind became a friend and it was just gliding. Easy. Peaceful. 

Bucky’s lips were chapped but he kissed softly and tentatively. When he pulled back he had a stupid smile on his face. “Like riding a bike.”

Sam rolled his eyes fondly. “You still need practice.” 

Bucky smiled and kissed him again.    
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> main story is done, the next chapter will just be some moments as their relationship develops. I will tentatively say I should be up by Tuesday


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here we are, an epilogue of sorts, a day early and short and sweet.

It started small, with the bright yellow daffodil and the pocket square, and continued. Sam always window shopped and noticed a bright yellow mug with other bright colored mugs arranged in a rainbow under warm lights and cursive. 

He bought it of course. He even wrapped it and put it in a bag and he presented it the Bucky with a flourish. “For you.”

Bucky looked at the bag like it was a puzzle. “For what?” 

“Because I saw it and thought of you,” Sam nudged the bag into Bucky’s hand. “Open it.” 

Bucky smiled at the bag and then smiled up at him. “Okay,” he opened the bag and pulled the perfectly wrapped mug out. Bucky, apparently, was the kind of person to find the tape and start there, carefully unwrapping it as opposed to tearing into it. 

Once he saw the flash of yellow he smile turned to a smirk. “How thoughtful.” 

It went on, anything and everything matching the shade of the long-dead flower Sam saw he bought. 

A hideous pair of jeans. Hawaiian shirt, T-shirt, shoes, bracelet. Even underwear. A top hat, socks, hair dye in case he was feeling adventurous and a bandana. 

Every time Sam would show up with a bag on a random day, Bucky knew it would be something yellow and it always brought a smile to his face.

It was all fun and games until Sam was picking up Bucky and he showed up and his pants, shirt, shoes, top hat, socks peeking out of the shoes, bandana tied low on his neck, were all yellow.

“Hello,” Bucky, the bastard, tipped his hat. 

“Go change,” Sam said, he wouldn’t be caught dead next to someone dressed like that but he technically caused this. 

Bucky brought a hand out from behind his back, in his hand was a few roses, all blood red. “What’s wrong with my outfit?” 

“I’m not going out with you dressed like that,” Sam took the flowers. 

“You don’t like it?” Bucky took a step back and looked down at himself, his faux innocence written all over his face. 

Sam gave him a flat look. “Change. Now.” 

“And if I don’t?”

“You wouldn’t go out in that,” Sam crossed his arms. Bucky hates drawing attention to himself.

Bucky got that look on his face, the one he wore when he and Sam went head to head, like in a training session or monopoly. 

“Is that a dare?” 

“Only if you take it as one.” 

So they went out. Sam dressed normally but Bucky went in his yellow clothing to dinner at a casual place. 

Bucky looked very awkward at all the stares but he didn’t back down. Sam just watched it all unfold. 

*   
Sam liked to talk, he talked about everything and nothing. He would go on tangents and rants and at dinner, Bucky would just watch him,  _ mhmming _ at the right moments and asking questions to keep Sam going, the food kept coming as the courses progressed their drinks were filled again and again.

They even got coffee after dessert, this wasn’t a partially fancy place so it wasn’t extremely busy. 

Sam stopped mid-sentence as he explained how inaccurate most military movies were and checked his phone for the time. “Sorry, I’ve been really going on.” 

Bucky rested his chin on his hand. “I don’t mind. I like to listen.” 

A smile tugged at the corners of Sam’s lips, he looked back down at his coffee. “Not everyone does.” 

“I’m not everyone.” 

*

Sam shoved Bucky against the wall, the shield blocking a bullet. Sam shot the perpetrator without looking.“Careful,” Sam said in Bucky’s ear. 

Sam pulled back and snapped his wings out with a jerky movement of his arms and ran off, jumping into flight. 

Bucky ducked behind a fallen wall and started to shoot the stay targets, they were in an thought to be abandoned Hydra safehouse. 

One of them had an alien weapon, it glowed blue and he was aiming for Sam, too busy carrying out their plan to notice. Bucky shot the man in the back before he could fire. 

Sam finished up and circled in the air, firing down at the shell of a facility, it wasn’t completely gone, all the underground tunnels and bunkers were still there. 

Bucky turned and ran away from the building, Sam flew in an arch as he went in Bucky’s direction. He slowed down to a crawl as Bucky held out his hand and Sam took it, pulling Bucky into his arms as he flipped the switch and the building, and most of the underground bunkers and tunnels exploded. 

As they touched down, smoke in the air, Bucky felt giddy. Tired but giddy. He kissed Sam like he’d been wanting to do since the fight broke out. 

*

Falling in love is easy: making a relationship work is harder. They argue and bicker but this is their first fight. 

It started over something stupid Sam couldn’t remember but it escalated to yelling and storming out. 

Sam laid in his bed, if he wanted to sleep tonight he’d have to call Bucky. He bit the bullet and called. 

“Hi,” Bucky said. 

Sam closed his eyes and laid back, his phone on speaker. “Hi.” 

“I’m still mad.” 

“Me too.” 

Sam didn’t know what to say. “I should probably apologize.” 

“Me too,” Bucky accepted his not apology and Sam accepted his.

“I don’t like fighting with you.”

“Me either.” 

“I don’t want to go to bed angry with you,” Sam’s parents had a rule, never go to bed angry. “We should talk about this.” 

“Okay,” Bucky’s voice was soft. 

They unpacked it, insecurities and vulnerabilities a little more distant as they talked after the fact. 

Sam made himself a silent vow he’d make this work. 

*

It started small, with a rose here and there. But Bucky took it farther, leaving Sam bundles of them, rose petals scattered on his floor leading to sticky note with something snarky on it. 

The lady at the flower shop got to know him and even gave decent advice. 

Bucky left him roses everywhere, his table, his couch, he handed them to Sam and had them delivered sometimes.

As Bucky kept seeing his reaction he kept wanting to do it more. Love languages are important, yellow and roses were theirs and Bucky wouldn’t trade it for anything. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you to everyone who read this, special, special thanks to all those you left kudos and comments, i lovec it all and am grateful for all the support.

**Author's Note:**

> Next chapter will be next Saturday and will include 
> 
> \--Kat!  
> \-- Bucky POV  
> \--Pinning  
> \--flowers  
> \--spiderman mention 
> 
> buckle up


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